


Screw This

by RegalMisfortune



Series: Gods of Our Time [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Lunar Skins!, They're deities in this, a bit of very loosely interpreted mythology, and a lot of making things up, fareeha may be head of them all but angela is the one who makes them behave, genji will kill for zebra cakes ok, hanzo is too, lynx gives a joke offering in which zarya takes seriously, okay a lot of loosely interpreted mythology, omnics and humans worship gods while still being in the futuristic weird place ok, what are tags i dont even know anymore, zarya hanzo genji angela and fareeha are deities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 04:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13696839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalMisfortune/pseuds/RegalMisfortune
Summary: There are four main deities of the world: the Vermilion Bird, the Azure Dragon, the White Tiger, and the Black Turtle. Unfortunately, the Black Turtle has gotten a bit of a bad reputation in the past few hundred years, and so few if any have ever given her an offering during the Festival of Spirits.Meanwhile, Lynx find the belief in gods and the whole Festival a bit frivolous and tedious, and decides to leave a spare screw from their own self repairs at the feet of a statue bare of any other offerings in spite of it all. After all, it's not like gods exist- who cares if someone left a screw?The Black Turtle does.





	Screw This

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again with random fics. I just... really love the new skins, and Zarya's is so good I just had to write about it. And it got a bit carried away. Oops. 
> 
> I haven't decided if I want to do this one as a series yet or not. Feel free to say aye or nay or the idea, or simply come and ask me for more suggestions or even ask questions on my tumblr, which is under the same username as it is here.

Lynx sighed as they followed after Efi and Orisa, hands stuffed into their pockets as the human child skipped along the cobblestone streets. Old world and new world melded into beautiful architecture of sleek glass and careful carvings, natural yet flowing. It made the Temple of Gods look at home in the middle of the city as it loomed ahead of them on the end of the street, the ancient pillars restored and the colorful windows more efficient and all together glinting in the early fall autumn sunlight.

Flowers were strewn about every arch and doorway, both locally sourced and from far away as merchants from all over the world tried to hark their trinkets and offerings for visitors’ collections or at the feet of their chosen deity’s statue as they themselves remained stoic and unaware of what was around them.

Lynx never particularly put much stock in gods, would rather prefer to remain in their apartment gathering blackmail material and hacking into places no man nor omnic should be in. But many of the world favored them, and Efi wasn’t about to let Lynx remain behind as she went to celebrate Orisa’s first Festival of Spirits.

Their ear-like receptors twitched as a sigh vibrated through their core, trying to drone out Efi’s excited explanation of the gods whom Orisa could choose from to Favor for the year. The Vermilion Bird, Lady of the Summer, the midday sun, and Watcher of the South, her feathered plumes alight with fire and always extending a helping hand was a popular choice for first-timers. A deity of health, healing, mercy, and hope, she was always characterized as a wonderful spirit, and yet few remembered that she was also the wayfarer of departed souls, to ferry those who slipped past even her own healing expertise to whatever laid beyond.

The Azure Dragon, Empress of the Spring, the rising sun, and Watcher of the East was a favorite of the politicians, the police, and the court systems. She was a deity of leadership, guiding through deals and had a firm hand of security. She also herald in new beginnings, of budding friendships and guardian of justice. She was, perhaps, the most important of them all, the leader of the deities, and many simply asked favors of her because of her standing above all others. However, she was also the one who catered to conflict and of strife in ways that each of the participants believed themselves to be right and the other in the wrong, but never backing down, but few remembered this in favor of her more beneficial hope.

Then there was the White Tiger, prowler of the West in the shadows of the evening twilight and herald of Autumn. The Lord of the Wild Things, he was known as a risk-taker and of secrets. He was favored amongst the younger generations for his more lively, worldly pursuits, filling others with confidence, but he was also known to occasionally receive offerings from criminals, those of light of foot and the harbinger of death and of violence. Yet at the same time he was a witness to peace. To see a white tiger was either an ill omen or a blessing, and only those who’d seen it would know.

There was also the Grey Wolf, one of the more minor deities that were also worshipped, but he was the White Tiger’s brother, the Lord of the Hunt and the Watcher under the Moon. He was the one people went to in seeking out solitude and redemption, impossible forgiveness of betrayals, and some other things but Lynx couldn’t quite remember much else about him, much like every other minor deity.

 “And then there’s the Black Turtle,” Efi told an enraptured Orisa, hands splayed as she thrusted her hands up over her head in excitement, pulling Lynx from the internal grumbling of lesser deities and back to the Fourth, and final major one.

The Black Turtle, the Mysterious Warrior, Herald of the North and of the Winter season. A deity of outright war, battles and bloodshed, of cold snow and long moonless nights. There weren’t as many depictions of this god than there were of the others, mostly of a turtle with a snake wrapped around it or of a helmeted soldier with its face covered and scales sewn together for armor. They were also the deity of protection, of standing one’s ground under relentless force and steadfast loyalty, but few remembered this fact when the Festival was on the cusp of Winter and most offering to that of the Vermilion Bird for a longer summer or to the Azure Dragon for an early spring. There was also some lore behind the hate for the Black Turtle as well, some mythology of an argument or something that Lynx never bothered to remember.

In any case, the Black Turtle was not a local favorite. Neither was the Grey Wolf either, but there was always some desperate soul who left an offering at the Hunter’s feet.

This year as Efi took hold of Orisa’s hand and trotted up the marble steps to go find her parents already inside the crowded temple, Lynx noted that there were a few more arrowheads and a bottle of something on the wolf-fur wearing Hunter, his statue just visible between the crowds. The more important deities were towards the front of the temple, the Vermilion Bird’s carefully curled tail feathers already decorated with wreaths of flowers and jewelry.

It was all very pointless, Lynx thought, playing with an extra screw inside their pocket for whenever they accidentally lost one of the smaller ones fixed in their chassis. Most of the offerings were eventually packed up and donated, especially the ones of clothes or non-perishable food items. The gods didn’t care either way what they got or what happened to it afterwards- if they existed at all. People simply got their hype all up over the frivolities of it all. It was a tourist attraction, a sales pitch.

They nearly pitched over themselves as someone bumped roughly into them, muttering a half-hearted apology as they went. Lynx wished they could scowl, their auditory sensors flattening to the sides of their head as they picked their way through the crowd and to the only section not covered in people.

“Seems like you’re as popular as ever,” they muttered to the faceless statue they found themselves by, their scaled gauntlets curled forever at their sides. The Black Turtle said nothing, and Lynx leaned against the pillar the statue was placed on, watching the crowd with disinterest. Not a single item was at the feet of the statue they were at, and Lynx wasn’t all that surprised. With the weather so seemingly unpredictable as of the past few winters, with storms so sudden and bitter that around the world power was lost and people perished, many were hoping to escape a rough, cold winter by catering to the other deities to convince the Black Turtle otherwise instead of begging the deity in question for a milder winter. Perhaps people thought they couldn’t be persuaded by mere mortal. The thought made Lynx snort a little.

“I honestly don’t see the point in this,” they said to themselves, pulling the small screw out of their pocket to look at. “You can offer anything and it won’t matter. A waste of time and effort.” They set the screw down onto the base of the stone statue just to prove their point, the small, silvery fastener barely longer than a human knuckle a testament to how pointless it really was. Why bother offering things that could cost hundreds of credits when a single pebble or even a blade of grass would work just as well.

Lynx stuffed their hands back into their pocket, tilting her head back to look up at the faceless entity before them. “Hope you like it,” they uttered, tone dripping with sarcasm as they turned away at the familiar cry of Efi, practically shoving her way through the crowd.

“Come on, Lynx! Orisa’s going to do her offering soon!”

“Fine, fine,” they called back with a lazy wave of their hand, giving the statue and its meaningless offering one last glance before stepping away. “What sort of carved rock is she bribing for the first time ever?”

“The Azure Dragon! She thinks her horns are nice.”

\--

The temple was silent as the last of the workers went home for the night, the doors locked and moonlight trickling in through the colored glass. It was in the silent heartbeat that a figure melted from the darkness and into the moonlight a slight huff of steam escaping from its tigeresque helm.

“Oho! Zebra cakes!” he exclaimed with glee, and on silent feet moved to the foot of the White Tiger’s statue, the crinkling of plastic filling the cavernous space as he happily shoved an entire cake into his gaping maw.

“You can never wait, can you?” an amused voice sounded after him, gentle feet perching on the shoulder of the Vermilion Bird, the tail feathers of her attire swishing quietly as she leaned against her staff and smiled at her friend and companion.

“For zebra cakes? Never.”

The Vermilion Bird shook her head as she spread her wings, drifting from the statue to the marble floor with the soft click of her heels before addressing the parting shadows as another colleague entered.

“It seems that your caped admirer has returned for another year,” she told the Grey Wolf with a knowing smile, gesturing towards his own statue where a bottle of well-aged whiskey rested.

“He’s not my admirer,” the Wolf growled, but there was no heat to his words as he slunk towards the offering.

“One of these days you need to stop lurking about and actually address the guy,” the Tiger stated from his lounging on his statue, munching on a second helping of zebra cakes. “I mean, he’s already seen you once. Don’t leave a man hanging.”

“It is unbecoming,” the Wolf sniffed, even as he picked up the bottle between his clawed fingers with tender care.

“Live a little,” came a crisp reply, a hint of a smile curling around the accented words as the Azure Dragon descended to the floor, a hulking figure of the Black Turtle appearing beside her. “You will regret not doing so if you keep sulking.”

“I do not sulk,” the Wolf replied hotly while the Tiger snorted. The minor deity threw a colorful string of beads from another deity’s statue at his brother’s head in retaliation.

“Boys, behave yourselves,” the Bird chided them, floating over to the Dragon. “Are the others coming as well?”

“Later, after we leave.” The Dragon’s eyes drifted over across the statues. “It seems there was a good turnout.” That was until her eyes fell upon the empty statue of the Black Turtle, seeming to draw the attention of the others as they turned their gazes upon it. The Bird’s wings drooped a little as she flitted her eyes over to the Turtle, but the only response the massive woman gave was a long, deep sigh, shoulders rising and falling before she clomped over towards her own statue that represented little of what she actually looked like.

“It seems she’s left out yet again,” the Bird murmured with heartfelt sympathy, the Dragon patting her on the shoulder in support. “She gives so much yet receives so little…”

“I am sure she will appreciate your flowers again this year,” the Dragon told the Bird. “She planted the seeds in the garden once they wilted.”

“Yes, but only the more tolerant ones grew,” the Bird sighed, watching the Turtle as she ran her fingertips over the bare stone of her statue, face shadowed by her reptilian helm. “And they only did so because I came and visited so frequently that it balanced out the cold of her home. I don’t think even I can make them grow again this time.”

“It is all we can do for now,” the Dragon murmured. “What sort of gifts did you receive this year?”

It was an attempt to lighten the mood, and it had minimal effect as the Bird’s wings lifted a little. “Someone made me flower crowns once more,” she let out a soft tinkling laugh as she led the Dragon over to her statue. “And a package of rations. Such odd gifts.”

The Dragon hummed before turning towards her own statue, but no sooner as she had looked that a soft gasp came from the bare statue and heavy feet thumped against the marble tiles. It made even the Tiger jump, slipping from his lounging perch and scrambling to his feet, much to the snorted amusement of his brother.

“Look!” the Turtle exclaimed, her voice soft but thick with emotion as she huddled close to the Bird and the Dragon, her fist closed tight as if holding something while the two male deities silently padded over to investigate as well. She opened her fingers to reveal the small screw, even tinier in her massive palm.

“Someone misplaced a screw?” the Tiger asked before squawking as the Bird elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s a gift!” the Turtle plowed on, not noticing the exchange as she held her hand close to peer at the small object, tears in her eyes but a smile on her lips. “Someone gave me an offering!”

“That’s nice!” the Bird stated quickly while jamming the butt of her staff into the toe of the Dragon’s boot as the other woman went to open her mouth to say otherwise. “Someone must have cared very much for, er, to offer you something.”

“It is,” the Turtle nodded, rolling the screw carefully in her hand. “It is an omnic made. A robot left it for me. They gave me a part of themselves and without want for anything in return!”

She seemed overwhelmed by the discovery, already sniffling and wiping tears away with her free hand. The others knew that they could feel the intentions of the gifts and the impression of who gave them, but in all these years no one had left a simple fastener. It was a joke, an accident even, but the Turtle was so _happy_ over the simple thing that the Bird bullied the others into keeping their thoughts to themselves. It had been years since anyone ever bothered to offer the Turtle anything- even if it was for a joke, the Bird wasn’t going to let the others ruin this moment.

“I should go thank them!” the Turtle stated suddenly, shoulders rolling back as she stood at her full height above the others.

“What-?”

“Don’t be ridiculous-“

But no matter what left their mouths, the Turtle was determined and set in her ways, already turning on her heels and disappearing back into the shadows.

“Oh dear,” the Bird muttered softly, wings fluttering nervously. “I hope she’ll be alright.”


End file.
